The Gift
by Saea
Summary: So here is the Gift from Cadvan's POV. Hope you like it. Please review :
1. Chapter 1

Cadvan stumbled down the mountainside, ignoring the constant throb in his mind from the power of the Landrost

I

MAERAD

Cadvan stumbled down the mountainside, ignoring the constant throb in his mind from the power of the Landrost. How long had he been imprisoned within the rocky depths of the Elidhu's home? He had lost count of the days, tortured with the glimpses of what Annar was soon destined to become, the realization of what was to become of all those he dearly loved. He had denied this truth for so long, but he knew that the Elidhu had not been lying to him. Of course it was possible for such a horrible creature to torment Cadvan with the blackest of lies but Cadvan knew that everything he had seen was real.

He remembered the cold laughter of the Landrost as he saw the tears well in Cadvan's eyes at the images of his home. It still echoed in his ears as he pushed onward, ignoring the loud protests from his legs as he quickened his pace, eager to be rid of the enveloping blackness around his mind. He was no longer heading in any general path, having lost his sense of direction long ago. Not for the first time did the thought cross his mind that the Landrost was waiting for him, that he already knew he was coming, that he had been forewarned.

Cadvan shook his head violently, clearing his head from such poisonous thinking. Norloch would not have betrayed him and no one beside the High Circle there had known of the contents of his mission. At least, this time he would have some useful information to pass on. Every mission he had undertaken for the past years had all ended in disappointment. He had not managed to gain any knowledge of the movement of the Black Army and his frustration only heightened when he heard of the increase in the Hull's activities. Not one piece of news from Sharma's stronghold in Dén Raven had been obtained. It was as if the Dark had vanished from the whole of Edil-Amarandh and it would have been easy to believe so if it were not for the scars they left behind with the brutal sacking of Pellinor and Jerr-Niken.

A thin line of smoke rising from above the crest of a hill slightly to the west caught his attention. He tensed and sent out his hearing. There were the sounds of brooms sweeping stone floors, the silent cooking of food, a few mumbling voices, and the sound of milk sloshing around in a tin bucket. He must be at Gilman's Cot. He had heard of this place, a cruel place where many innocent people were subjected to be slaves to sustain Gilman and his thugs. He had winced away when he heard of the treatment the slaves received there. It was not a place he had ever wished to cross but now it seemed he had no choice. The Landrost could not harm him there. He closed his eyes and focused for a moment. He felt a sharp pain run through his body as he reached for his magery and caught his breath. He hastily murmured the words to make him unseen and when he was sure of his guise, approached the walls of the cot. He scanned each briefly before settling for one that did not seem that hard to climb. It was also less watched by the guardsmen, an error that might cost them dearly later. He quickly climbed the wall and landed lightly on his feet on the other side. He stood, listening again, before deciding to go in the direction of the stables. The soft sounds of the cattle grazing were the only things that could be heard there.

As he reached the stables, he saw one beast tied down, a pair of legs seen from its other side. It was a girl, much too young to be working in these conditions. Her black hair fell around her face, covering her eyes as she dozed against the cow's side. Her skin was pale, giving the girl a weak appearance. Her face was marred with a frown with whatever thoughts were crossing her mind at that moment. She was thin, very thin. It seemed that she had not had a proper meal for months.

Suddenly, the cow reared and the girl's eyes flew open as her hands scampered to the milk pail, saving it before it spilt. She tried to soothe the animal, calming it with soft words, however, the creature kept stomping and snorting, uncomfortable with Cadvan's presence. Cadvan stood still, not daring to even breathe. The girl unexpectedly looked around the byre, and froze when she saw him.

Cadvan felt his heart stop. She could see him. Had his magic failed him? Had the Landrost taken all his powers from him without his noticing? No, that was impossible. There had to another reason. The girl reached for a rushlight, hesitantly, unsure of what to do. Cadvan remained rooted to where he stood, also lost in what he should do.

"Who are you?" the girl asked sharply. Cadvan did not answer. He could not. It seemed that all sense of speech had left at that moment. His eyes met the girl's gaze and he was shocked. Her piercing blue eyes, so familiar yet unknown were filled with confusion and fear. But behind that all, Cadvan caught a glimpse of stubbornness and he almost smiled. And that was when he noticed it, something he should have seen from the moment he had spotted her. The girl was absolutely glowing. It was unlike any bard light he had ever seen, so powerful and yet irresolute. What was she doing here? And so close to the enemy's clutches. He realized that she had again asked him who he was, accusing him of being a black spirit.

"Nay," he replied. His voice was raspy from the long days of unuse. "Nay, I am no black spirit. No wer in a man's skin. No. Forgive me." He sighed, attempting to keep his eyes open. "I am tired, and I am wounded. I am not quite—myself." He attempted to smile at her, to reassure her but winced instead at the pain it caused. He was exhausted. He felt her scrutinizing him and he held her gaze, enduring her inspection before finally unable to hold his curiosity any longer, despite his fatigue. "And who are you, young witch-maiden? It takes sharp eyes to see the likes of me, although perhaps my art fails me. Name yourself."

"Who are you to ask me?" the girl snapped back, with more bravery in her voice than before. Cadvan studied her face for a moment. Yes, he had seen those eyes before, he was sure of it. He staggered as he finally recalled who's they reminded him of. Milana, Milana of Pellinor. The resemblance was unmistakable. He staggered at his discovery, but then corrected himself and smiled.

"I am Cadvan, of the School of Lirigon," he said. It was too late to pretend to be anyone else right now, and he doubted he would even remember if he switched names. "Now, mistress, how do they name you?"

"Maerad," the girl replied softly, almost whispered. She was confused again.

"Maerad of the Mountains?" Cadvan asked derisively.

"Of…of Gilman's fastness," she said haltingly. "I'm a slave here…" she added in a rush.

"A slave?" Cadvan frowned inwardly. That much he had guessed, but he did not realize how much he had hoped he was wrong until Maerad had confirmed his thoughts.

Someone was approaching and Maerad heard it now. A huge doltish man came through the door. He did not see Cadvan, much to Cadvan's relief.

"Where's that milk? What are you doing there, have you lost your wits?" he asked Maerad sneeringly. "Are you looking for the whip? If the butter doesn't turn, we'll know who to blame." Obviously, this man loathed Maerad for reasons unaware to Cadvan.

"I'm – I'm sorry," she stammered. "The cattle are restless…" Cadvan recoiled at her meekness toward this man. If she was indeed a bard, which would not be surprising by the fact that Cadvan was almost positive that she had the Gift, she should not be treated in such a way. The man watched for her for a while as she continued milking, before deciding she was working as she should and leaving. Cadvan saw Maerad relax slightly as his presence left the byre. He stood there, continuing to watch her, a million questions running through his mind. What was this girl doing here? And more importantly who was she?


	2. Chapter 2

He stood there, continuing to watch her, a million questions running through his mind

_He stood there, continuing to watch her, a million questions running through his mind. What was this girl doing? And more importantly who was she?_

II

ESCAPE

Cadvan sighed to himself. There were too many questions to be asked, to many riddles here. He needed rest.

"Maerad," he began quietly. "I wish you no harm. I am tired, and I need to sleep. That's why I'm here." He passed his hand over his brow and leaned against the wall of the byre. The byre was wavering before his vision.

"He didn't see you," Maerad said in a blank voice. Cadvan focused on her. She was still milking.

"No, it is a small thing…"he murmured automatically. "A mere glimmerspell. What is interesting is that—" he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, "you saw me." Cadvan continued to watch the girl, but this time he searched within her, trying to decipher her mind. Could she possibly be from the Landrost, here to lure him back? But then, why would the Elidhu send someone in this guise. He realized Maerad's discomfort at his scrutiny and broke his hold, looking away into the pastures. The cows there were peaceful, grazing upon the grass, unaware of the plight that was to soon befall this land.

Cadvan could not stand any longer. All his strength had been drained from him. He sat, almost stumbling to the ground.

"I wish I were not so tired," he said, breaking the silence first. Perhaps, he could gain some answers from her. He took a deep breath and emptied his mind. "You were not always a slave?" he aside casually.

"My mother wasn't a slave," Maerad answered. Her words rang clearly in the air; she was not lying. "Gilman bought her and kept her here, when I was very little. I think he wanted to ransom her, but none came to ransom." So her mother held some worth besides being a slave. Could she have been…?

Maerad was speaking again. "And then she died." She flashed up her eyes to meet his and Cadvan remained unperturbed from the flaming anger. "What business is it of yours?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Who are you to ask me?" Cadvan concealed his surprise at the girl's defensiveness. Was she hiding something that she would not reveal? Cadvan decided to keep questioning her.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Milana. Milana of Pellinor, Singer of the Gift, Daughter of the First Circle. My father…" Cadvan had frozen. He had been right. Those were Milana's eyes. But how did she, First Bard of Pellinor, end up in such a demeaning place? As Maerad's words continued to echo within his mind, he remembered his last visit there. He had arrived on an errand from Nelac, news from Norloch. That was only a few months before the sack. And she had had a daughter then no older than six or seven. He had never learned her name.

Maerad's hands were at her mouth, and she was staring at Cadvan with astonishment.

"Oh, indeed," replied Cadvan. Obviously, she had not consciously known any of this information.

"I mean, my mother was called Milana, that's all I remember. She, she died when I was seven years old…I don't know anything about…about the rest. Did you make me say that?" This time there was no anger in her eyes, just confusion and a hint of fear.

"Make? No, I can't _make_ you say anything," Cadvan began to explain. Like everyone, she had misjudged the powers of truthtelling. "The School of Pellinor," he mused out loud. "That was sacked, oh, years ago. It was thought all were killed." Cadvan fell silent. He had believed that himself. He had seen the destruction of the once vibrant school as it lay in ruins, serving as a grave for all those, bards and non, who had died there at the hands of the Dark.

"By what right do you come in her and say…and say such things…I could call the Thane's men…" Maerad said in a shaky voice. She was scared. Of him. Cadvan watched her for a few more seconds. Was this why he had felt drawn to come here of all places to rest? Was this the force that had driven him here?

Cadvan put his face in his hands. There were still too many questions and he had not the strength. Her mother was Milana, Cadvan knew. She could not have lied about that. He sighed in his hands.

"You can't stay here, if you are of Pellinor," he said at last. He had finally said it. There was no running away from it now. He looked up at the girl and saw the flaring hope in her eyes, making his heart sink even more. He was only going to be bringing her into more danger by "saving" her from this cot, which right now was the closest thing to a haven.

He sighed again, and this time the byre spun from the effort. He needed some nourishment.

"Could you—perhaps—spare some milk?" he asked after the room had once again righted itself. Maerad handed over the milk pail wordlessly. She was obviously still shocked by what he had just said. He felt his head clear slightly as the cool rich liquid coursed down his throats. He smiled slightly as he returned the pail. "A blessing on you, and on your house," he murmured, the customary thanks. "Will you have to come to the byre again? Today I mean." Cadvan asked. Maerad's eyes snapped up to meet his, a quick flash of suspicion flickering across them.

"Yes, I am sectioned her today. I'll be milking again in the evening. Why?" _Too many questions_, thought Cadvan.

"Good," he said, unable to conceal a yawn. "I'll sleep now. We'll talk later, yes, when I am less tired." _But not stronger_.

He lay down on the hay and instantly fell asleep, pushing the girl away from his mind for the moment.

When Cadvan awoke, the sun was lower in the sky. At first, he cringed, awaiting the cold taunting of the Landrost, before realizing that he was no longer bound. He allowed himself a small smile. But now was the problem with this girl, Maerad.

He knew that he could not let her stay here. She was of Pellinor. Despite his dangers, he knew that he had to at least offer her a chance at freedom. Perhaps take her to Innail? Leave her with Silvia? He knew Malgorn would have no objections. Silvia would love Maerad. But there was also the question of her Gift. It was powerful, Cadvan knew. And untrained. He wondered if the Landrost knew of her presence here. No, he shook his head. If the Elidhu was aware of Maerad's existence, she would not be here.

She reminded him of something he had heard before. Something from Lanorgil perhaps, he wasn't sure. Just at that moment, he heard Maerad enter.

He turned and smiled at her. His eyes traveled down to see new welts on her legs. She had been beaten. His smile slightly faded. This place was too cruel. He had to get her out of here. He stood up.

"Well, Maerad, I've had a little time to think," he said. "This is a foul noisome place; the animals are better treated than the people here. That is unjust enough." He paused, rethinking for the last time what he was about to propose. "Do you wish to leave?" He saw a sea of emotions cross Maerad's face, before finally settling on disbelief.

"Leave this place?"

"Seriously Maerad."

"I've dreamed of nothing else these long years. It's impossible. Why do you think I'm still here?"

"Nothing is impossible," Cadvan said softly, repeating what his old mentor had told him long ago. He dropped Maerad's gaze. There was something disconcerting in her eyes. "You could leave with me. But I am in a little dilemma as to what to do; it would be most unwise to take you with me. I am flying from danger into danger and I do not have my full strength." _I barely have any strength._ "Neither could I leave you here, if you are indeed Milana's daughter, and you indeed wish to leave. Perhaps I could come back, when I was stronger;" Cadvan began, seeing another path, before he instantly hit a block. "But I have duties I can't abandon, and I would not be free of them for months. And my heart tells me…" Cadvan stopped. He did not know exactly what his heart was telling him, but he had come here for a reason. This meeting was not by chance. "I must leave now. If you want to come with me, you may. Leaving will be a simple matter. Other things will not be so simple, but we will have to take them as they come." Maerad said nothing. "Yes? Or no?" Cadvan asked again. He ignored her protests and stared at her. Maerad gazed back, not backing down. Finally Cadvan sighed.

"There come few times in a person's life where there is a clear choice." He waited for a few more seconds, but the girl remained unmoving. "I have no time. I have made my offer. You can stay or leave as you wish. I am asking what you want. If you don't know, it is no concern of mine." Obviously, for reasons unknown to Cadvan, this girl seemed not to want to leave this dump. He turned to leave when he heard her call out to him.

"I'll come," she said. Her face was covered with panic. Cadvan glanced down at a small bundle she held in her hands.

"Is there anything you must fetch?" The girl shook her head. "Well, that is good. We'll go now then." Again, Maerad seemed to resist.

"Now? What about the cows?" Cadvan almost laughed to himself. Maerad was more concerning about the cows while the question of her freedom hangs on the point of a knife.

"Someone else will milk them tonight. I do not think Gilman will let his beasts suffer; they are too valuable," he reassured her. "Now quickly. Come here." Maerad approached slowly. When she was but a few feet away, he placed his hands on her shoulders and drew upon whatever power he could muster. He quickly spoke the spell, offering a translation to Maerad's confused gaze, picked up his pack, and left the byre. Now that they were leaving, a new sense of speed filled Cadvan. The Landrost had picked out his presence.

"We must hurry," he said quickly to Maerad. "No speaking. I cannot make us unheard as well." They hurried through the cot, quietly though so as not to awaken the guards of their presence. Cadvan contained his impatience at Maerad's slowness.

Finally, the reached the wall, the same one Cadvan had entered by. He stowed Maerad's bundle within his pack before scaling the wall. When they reached the top, he paused, sending out his hearing again. He heard someone running from the direction of the byre. Someone had already noticed Maerad's absence. Cadvan was impressed. It took them shorter than he would have credited them for. He pushed Maerad down the other side and almost simultaneously he heard a bell ring. Maerad tensed beside him and almost fell down the rest of the wall. Cadvan could not restrain his laughter.

"Now _you_ make the pace," he said. "I thought I'd never get you out of there." The terror did not leave Maerad's face.  
They'll send the dogs after us!" she whispered. "There's no escaping Gilman's hounds. They'll track a stag for a week and they can tear a grown man to pieces in a minute." If only dogs were the worst they would have to deal with thought Cadvan bitterly. He sighed, expressing as much to Maerad. He saw her glance dubiously down the valley, and he almost laughed again at her expression.

"We'll walk then," she said, turning her back to the cot and beginning their long trek. Cadvan had no choice but to follow, as the Landrost viciously began to strike down at his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

III

III

THE LANDROST

_Where have you escaped to, Cadvan of Lirigon?_ the all too familiar cold voice mocked within him. _You cannot run away._

Cadvan shut out the voice from his head. This could not be happening. Not now. He had not the strength the deal with it and they were still so far from the outer boundaries of the Landrost's domain. He concentrated on walking, just putting one foot in front of the other.

The baying of the hounds could be heard in the distance and Maerad unconsciously shrank toward him. He glanced down at her swiftly to see the raw fear etched into her face.

"Maerad, they cannot harm us," he reassured her softly. "The men cannot see us." She seemed to accept his assurances and continued to walk, although she kept close to him. Her pace was stiff and she jumped at every twig that snapped as they walked. Suddenly, the hounds began running, barking madly as they approached them.

"Bu the _hounds_ can see us," Maerad whispered hoarsely. Another sharp jab cut into his mind, and he winced slightly. He heard the cruel laughter within his ears, refusing to leave. He concentrated instead of listening to Maerad.

"They won't harm us," he replied. "They're savage beasts, but innocent. They serve no dark purpose. Have faith." He was speaking truth to Maerad when he was referring to the hounds, but he did not know how long he could restrain the blunt force of the Landrost.

The hounds were right behind him now. He closed his eyes, again focusing on gathering whatever wisps of his magery he could find and turned around to face the dogs.

_Lemmach!_ he ordered. The leading hound instantly stopped, all the dogs tumbling after it. As he spoke the words of the Speech, he felt the dark presence of the Elidhu shrink back from its purity.

_Lemmach, ni ardrost!_" he said. _Go home,_ he whispered within their minds. _We mean no harm_. The lead dog came forward, loping itself around his knees, sniffing him gently. Cadvan stroked its nose. _Ni ardrost, _he said again. Each hound came and sniffed him before trotting back to the riders. After the last one had left, Cadvan released his hold on his magery, and almost instantly, the Landrost was again within his mind. He answered a question Maerad asked him, not paying much attention to its content, his complete concentration focused on closing his mind.

Maerad suddenly stumbled, and Cadvan caught her elbow, quick concern running through him. He had dragged her out of the cot into his danger with a dark force and after a hard days work. She was probably exhausted, not having had enough sleep for the Light knows how long.

"I'm sorry to drive you, Maerad, but we cannot rest here tonight," he said apologetically. "Gilman's hounds are no danger to us, but other things are." As if to emphasize his point, the Landrost again lashed into his mind. Cadvan restrained his gasp and continued speaking. "This is an unwholesome place. And already it grows dark."

"I'm all right," Maerad replied sullenly, shrugging off his hand. There seemed to be no end to this girl's strength, Cadvan mused.

"It is safest if we keep moving," said Cadvan. Maerad slowly set off, and as she walked, Cadvan glimpsed at her again. The light, the strong glow that had illuminated her in the byre had now grown ever stronger now. It even seemed as if she was holding some magery, about to strike out with her Gift.

"What were you doing in the byre?" she asked, her soft voice shattering the silence. Cadvan evaded her question, instead questioning her of her life there.

"There is not much to say," she said in a flat voice. "Every day was the same pattern, waking up with the bell and doing the days chores." Cadvan cringed at the harshness in her words. No one should be allowed to suffer so much. He changed the subject to Pellinor, wondering what she knew or remembered.

She said little on that subject, unable to bring back any of her sleeping memories.

"What are the Schools?" she asked suddenly. "Is that where you learned those spells?" Cadvan stared down at her, surprised by this abrupt question while the obviousness of her Gift stared at him, and despite his exhaustion and the constant war he was fighting within his mind, he started laughing.

"Maerad, it is so strange to me that one of the Gift should know nothing at all of the Schools." Maerad looked down, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. "Please forgive me, Maerad," he said after a few moments. "I do not mean to tease your ignorance. Perhaps more tutored, you would now be dead, and your lack of knowledge has protected you from the sight of those who would otherwise have done you harm." He smiled down at her, and from the first moment he met her, Maerad smiled back. He offered to teach her of the schools and she accepted. Cadvan briefly skipped through all he knew, which proved to be much, in order to find a suitable beginning.

"Well, those of the Gift are like to the Loresingers of Afinil," he began. He continued to explain of the bards and their unique abilities. He watched as Maerad's curious eyes would light up at any word she recognized. She knew more than she actually remembered, Cadvan realized.

As Cadvan spoke, the malevolence of the Landrost seemed to slowly dissipate. This startled him. They were still much too close to the mountain, well within his reach. And of course, he knew that Cadvan did not have much strength. So why was he leaving? Cadvan sent out his hearing, searching both ahead and behind them, continuing to teach Maerad of the Gift.

He had now reached the songs. He considered briefly before leading into a song. He sung of Afinil and its beauty, even throughout the darkness. He was temporarily transported back to the school as he had seen in books. The beauty of this first school was unmatched and the primary cause of the Nameless' hate towards the Bards. The towers glistening in the sunlight were now replaced by the towers of Norloch. In a way, for Cadvan, the image of Afinil was being shadowed by that of the High Seat of the Light.

Suddenly, Maerad stumbled again, falling to the ground this time. She did not shout or let any small noise escape from her lips but instantly scrambled up from the ground. Cadvan let go of his hearing, glancing down sharply at her. A wave of guilt passed through him at her weariness. He stopped for a short rest and drew out his bottle of medhyl from his pack.

"This helps weariness," he told her, taking a sip before handing her the bottle. He felt some of his physical exhaustion lift but his mental battle raged on. After a few moments, Cadvan resumed his speaking. He explained of the Nameless and the casting off of his name. The Landrost had suddenly returned to attack him and this time it was much worse. Cadvan continued speaking as they started walking again, this time too weak to send out his hearing, hoping that he could merely last the night.

"Was that why you were near Gilman's Cot?" asked Maerad curiously, at Cadvan's explanation of the dangerous missions of Bards. His face instantly clouded as he was once more reminded of his tortures within the mountain.

"It is a little close to speak of that," he said simply. He said nothing more after that and they walked in silence, Maerad pondering this new knowledge of the Schools while Cadvan battled the full force of the Landrost. He did not know how much longer he could hold. The Elidhu had started attacking with a new tactic. Instead of trying to bring him down from within his mind, he was trying to crush the mountain on top of them. Cadvan furiously fought back, no longer able to hide his burden. He felt Maerad's eyes upon his face, but he did not say anything for fear of losing his grip.

"Do you think that I might be a Bard?" asked Maerad after a few more moments.

"Didn't you hear anything I told you?" Cadvan replied perhaps more sharply than he had intended. He felt the sudden gust of dislike emanating from Maerad at his tone. He wanted to apologize, he could not risk having her against him right now but the Landrost thrust out again, this much with so much force that Cadvan had to halt, gasping at the pain.

"Maerad, I must ask your patience. I contest the will of the spirit of this place, which would not have us leave here it bears down on me, and it gets worse the further we go," he managed to explain. The Landrost laughed within his mind. Cadvan began walking again but with every step, the pressure built up and he felt as if he was walking in the deepest of seas, pushing against the water.

The mouth of the valley kept drawing closer, but still the Landrost kept battling. Finally, Cadvan could no longer take it.

"Maerad, I must rest, just briefly." His voice was hoarse and strained as he spoke and he collapsed to the ground. Now he simply concentrated on breathing, trying to stay conscious. Maerad reached out and clasped his hand but just as quickly let it go with a shudder.

"What _is_ it?" she whispered. For a moment, Cadvan was distracted.

"You can feel it?" he asked.

"Something," she said, wincing. "Something horrible…" A new possibility sprang to his mind.

"Take my hand again," he said. Maerad hesitating, her face tortured from having to feel the Landrost's wrath. Cadvan gasped again as another attack vehemently crashed down on him.

"Maerad, at this moment I keep the entire mountain from toppling on our heads. Perhaps you can help me. Take my hand!" He was almost begging her now; the pain was becoming unbearable. Reluctantly Maerad reached out and grabbed his hand again. Cadvan squeezed back at the warm light she seemed to be exuding. It was comforting.

"Hold it back," he said. "Command it to retreat." Nothing happened and the Landrost assailed him once more, utterly erasing the small amount of magery Cadvan had been holding. _Hold it back!_ he shouted in Maerad's mind, unable to speak anymore. For a few more seconds, nothing happened. Then suddenly, Maerad's glow intensified and he heard a cool voice within his mind, commanding. _Go away! Begone!_ Instantly, the Landrost retreated, recoiling from Maerad's voice.

Cadvan sighed, amazed at the extent of her Gift.

"By the Light, Maerad, that is some Gift you have. Now perhaps we will be able to leave." He stood up slowly, still clutching her hand. They continued walking through the valley, both exhausted from the long trek and from fighting back the Landrost. As they passed the outer boundaries of the mountain, Cadvan felt the Elidhu's will snap close with disgust. Maerad laughed and smiled openly at Cadvan. In that moment, he saw how beautiful she really was. Her smile lit up her face, casting away the fear constantly present within her blue eyes, bringing a slight color to her face.

"We're out!" she cried.

"But still we must walk! Even in the shadows, the Landrost has power." And finally, the collapse that Cadvan had been holding back released, the rocks tumbling down the side of the mountain. They turned away to the rising sun.


	4. Chapter 4

IV

I apologize for the huge delay with my updating. I have been very busy with college apps and such and have barely had any time to even sleep. But now I have finally gotten back onto writing so the chapters will be coming along faster. Sorry this one isn't as long. Hope you guys like it! :

IV

QUESTIONS

Cadvan had now lost count of how long they had been walking. It was at least an hour over sunrise though, and he could see that Maerad was exhausted. Her eyes would droop from time to time and she had caught herself from stumbling upon the jagged rocks that littered the road several times now.

Finally, Cadvan glimpsed what he was searching for, Irihel. He slowly increased his pace, eager to be within its safe encompassing boundaries. He explained what it was to Maerad as they came to a stop within the little grove of white-barked trees. He sat down, throwing his pack down unceremoniously, and stretched his legs. He withheld his grimace at the pain in his frozen bones, the stretching doing nothing to thaw them out.

"We are not permitted to make fire here," he explained to Maerad and also reminding himself of the fact. "More's the pity. My bones are frozen."

He watched as Maerad cautiously sat down next to him, keeping a safe distance away. She seemed to be on her guard, wary for something that Cadvan did not know. He frowned internally at the wounds she must have received from working at that wretched place. He remembered the filth that was around everything and everyone and realized that Maerad probably would like to wash up.

Recalling from his last visit to this small shelter on one of his earlier missions, he told her of a stream nearby if she so wished to wash.

"I'll show you, and leave you there briefly," he offered. "You will be within call, should you need me. If you are unable to call, shout my name in your head. I will hear you." Cadvan then left, although for some reason he could not place, he felt as if he was walking against some force, as if he shouldn't be leaving. Maerad was left alone with no protection.

He shook his head. Nothing could harm her out here except for wild animals and those were easily dealt with.

He reached out and removed Maerad's small bundle from his pack, curious to its contents. The shape was familiar within his hands, but he refrained from searching. He placed a blanket and some food out, ready for Maerad's arrival. He felt guilty for not being to offer her more sustaining nourishment. The Light knows how little she had received.

It was not long before she returned. "Eat," Cadvan told her. "I'll be back soon." This time, he left to scour the surroundings, just to make sure that there was nothing of the Dark trailing them. Now that he had brought Maerad into his dangers, he would try his best to keep her from suffering what he had already. She was very weak, so vulnerable, yet more powerful than any Bard Cadvan had met.

His thoughts began to wander to who she might be exactly. She was the daughter of Milana, one of the greatest. Had Milana known of Maerad's extraordinary abilities? He brought to mind his last visit to Pellinor. Maerad had peeked at him from behind her mother's dress, too shy to speak with him. Cadvan had not seen anything unusual then, although he had not been looking carefully. Considering with how vivid her Gift was now, Cadvan knew, that someone must have known something. Could she have possibly been the reason for the sacking? Cadvan briefly contemplated this question. It was possible. No one had seen the fall of Pellinor coming. It was a great shock to all, that such a powerful haven of the Light was assailed with such a force. Yes, there was more of a purpose than simply just bringing down the school. Someone had known something, and it might have been with Maerad.

Oh how he wished he had paid more attention now at his last visit. Perhaps then more things could be explained. He decided that for now, they would travel to Innail and he would seek the counsel of Oron on the matter as well. If she did prove to be nothing special, which Cadvan now highly doubted, he could leave her with Silvia. If not, well then he would bring her to Nelac. He had more knowledge in the ancient Lore. He would know who exactly she was.

He had returned to the dingle by now and saw Maerad asleep on the ground, the blanket wrapped around her. She was cradling a lyre, the object within her bundle. This confirmed the fact that she was more than she knew. And perhaps he had been thrown more into danger by bringing her along.  
He sighed and ate some of the biscuit. There were too many questions and he did not like it. The only option he could see right now was to scry her. This seemed harsh, but Cadvan needed to know her perspective of the sacking, and he needed to at least see Milana's face in her past.

He wrapped his cloak about him and slept, pushing the questions to the back of his mind for now.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry bout the delay again….just been extremely busy. But im already working on the next chapter so it should be up in a week at the latest….Enjoy and please review!!!!

V

Lyres and Prophecies

Cadvan awoke to silence. He sat up, shaking his head slightly to clear it from drowsiness. Maerad was still asleep beside him, a small frown upon her lips. He gazed at the lyre in her arms, a little more carefully this time. It was flawless and beautiful, something that must have been made from only the best. It could only have been a treasure of Pellinor, Cadvan was sure. There were some intricate patterns and runes carved along its face, but Cadvan did not recognize the shapes or symbols. He gazed at them for a while, going through all the knowledge he had collected over the years from his study and his travels about the Lore and the ways of the Light, but nothing reminded him of these symbols. He contented himself by thinking that it was probably merely the name of the maker of this instrument. He sighed. And yet another curiosity had arisen with Maerad.

He turned away from her, gazing away into the mountains. He sent his hearing out as he contemplated what to do with her now. The idea of scrying her again rose to mind. It was harsh for someone of her age and past to go through that, but Cadvan was simply at a loss of what to do next. Of course, they would stay at the Irihel another night as he was still desperate for sleep, but he needed to know more of his new travelling companion. And that was something that Maerad either would not give him or could not from lack of memory.

He decided that when she awoke, he would describe scrying to her, and if she denied him, well then he would simply have to be on his guard.

He reached into his pack and started eating some of the biscuit again, lost so deeply in his thoughts that when Maerad stirred behind him, he almost jumped at the sudden noise. He said nothing, but offered her some food to which she quickly accepted. A slight color rose to her cheeks as she ate, a warmth that had not been there before. When they had finished eating, Cadvan decided to explain his dilemma.

"Now Maerad," he began, choosing not to look at her as he did not want to see any possible disappointment in her face. "We must think of our plans. I must travel many hundreds of miles, through dangerous country, and quickly. And now I have a passenger, and no extra food. And I notice you brought not a blanket, nor any food, nor even spare clothes – only a harp, like a true Bard. What shall we do?"

Maerad responded exactly as he had hoped she would not

"How should I know? You asked me to come with you." Cadvan easily read the fear behind her voice, her instinct of hiding emotions yet unable to deal with the insecurities of loneliness, for Cadvan doubted that she would return to the life of slavery. It was obvious that Maerad despised it, and for some reason that Cadvan could not place, it seemed as if Maerad was someone who could never be fully chained. He recalled the slight fear he had heard in the man's voice who had reprimanded her back in the cow byre. No, Maerad was not to be trifled with.

He turned to look at her. "Of course, I wouldn't leave you here." He almost smiled at the pure absurdity of the idea. "But we must have some thought of where to go. My way bends to Norloch, where I must report to the Circle." He thought bitterly again of the thoughts of a possible betrayal. "I can either take you to a closer School, where you may rest, and heal, and be taught, or take you with me to Norloch." He realized as he was saying this, that if Oron agreed with him that she was more important, then Maerad really had no option but to come with him to Norloch. How he wished Nelac was with him.

"I don't mean to be in the way," Maerad replied sarcastically. Cadvan almost smiled again. This girl never failed to amuse him.

"Maerad, Bards learn that little that concerns them is the consequence of mere chance. Our meeting seems to me of more weight than that." Considering how tired and drained he had been after his escape, he doubt he had stumbled onto Gilman's Cot by chance. And then to find someone with such a powerful Gift! He voiced as much to Maerad, again that faint familiarity returning, before suddenly remembering what it was Maerad reminded him of: Lanorgil's prophecy of the Fated One. Although he could not recall it perfectly from memory, there was one line he knew, _Seek then one who comes Speechless from the Mountains; a Bard unSchooled and yet of this School._ From Maerad's confusion to when Cadvan had used the Speech, it was obvious she had not acquired It yet. But could she really be what Lanorgil's

After a short uncomfortable silence, Cadvan's eyes were again drawn to Maerad's lyre.

"May I look at your lyre?" he asked. "It caught my eye…"

He saw her unconsciously stroke it as she handed it over. Obviously, it was very dear to her. He examined it closely, again glancing over the carvings and wishing that he could conjure up some memory of what they resembled. He stroked the chords, its perfect notes ringing in the silence of the Irihel. He could not believe the perfection of this instrument. Such flawless sound and texture. He whistled softly.

"This lyre," he asked. "Was it your mother's?" Cadvan already knew the answer for he doubted that Maerad as a little child had managed to take something so precious with her during a sacking. As in response to his thoughts, she nodded.

"Have you ever had to tune it?" he asked softly, wonderment in his voice. "I suppose you have never replaced the strings?"

"No," replied Maerad uncertainly. "Should I have? I didn't know…Mirlad never said." Cadvan laughed at her reply. She underestimated herself too much.

"This is a thing precious beyond the ransom of kings. What would Gilman have done, had he known such a treasure lay hidden in his small cot?" Cadvan contemplated out loud. "It is worth ten, no, a thousand times, the worth of everything in it." He continued his explanation, venturing into the realm of Dhyllic ware as he described its rarity. He smiled at her again, her violent yet puzzling past intriguing him ever more so. His cautious thoughts crept back into his mind again, however, and he became serious.

"We shall have to be friends, if we are to travel together," he said. "And we must trust each other. Don't mind my teasing. Nevertheless, we must decide what to do." Cadvan was referring to his current quandary of scrying Maerad and simply who and what she was. For with every second he spent with her, some new mystery was discovered, some hidden power that she herself did not even know of, _a Bard unSchooled and yet of this School_. Perhaps Oron would know of the matter as well in reference to Lanorgil's prophecy. It seemed like a long stretch to explain the potency of Maerad's unusual Gift, however it was all the more reason to stop by Innail.

After notifying her that they were in fact staying another night at the Irihel, Cadvan drew out his own lyre from his pack. "Of less noble lineage than yours, but noble enough to keep it company," he said. "And still true, and my first love," concluding fondly by striking some chords. It had been a while since he had strung his lyre. He tuned it a bit and then plucked some notes from the lay of Andomian and Beruldh. He saw an instant recognition in Maerad's eyes as she heard the beginning of the ancient and tragic love story. He decided to test her knowledge and see if he could unravel some more of the mystery behind this girl. He began singing:

Speak to me, fair maid!

Speak and do not go!

What sorrows have your eyes inlaid

With such black woe?

He paused, plucking the melody, and waiting for her to respond. Immediately she responded, her beautiful contralto mixing with Cadvan's baritone to fill the silence of the mountains. It was a nice respite from all that Cadvan had endured these past weeks, a reminder of the existence of the Light and its ability to erase any shadow from the land. No, he would not let the image in the Landrost's mirror come true. There was too much that was sacred and treasured, and despite the Nameless' best efforts, he could never extinguish it. That would never be lost.

Maerad stopped suddenly and Cadvan followed suit, the silence again returning. He struck an impatient chord as the malevolence of the Landrost swept around them again. "This is no song for such a place, unhoused, in the dark, where wers howl in the distance." He gazed upon her again, her blue eyes filled with confusion, fear, and a hint of caution, probably directed at him. He put his lyre away and sat deep in thought. There was no end to the secrets with this girl and aside from scrying, there was no way that he would ever really find out.

He was about to turn around and ask her now, before deciding against it. Now was not a good time. She still needed rest and the lay had somehow conjured up some memory that had made her sorrowful. He felt her sadness from where he was sitting and a brief glimpse to her distraught face only verified that. He sighed and told Maerad to get some rest.

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day for both of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the huge delay again guys. But I am really excited to continue again. Here is the scrying! It took me forever to try and get it right. Hope you like it

VI

The Scrying

Cadvan gasped at the sight that lay in front of him. Innail, one of the strongholds of the Light, the Bards of Lanorgrim, was in ruin. The proud tall towers crumbled in ashes and dust. Bodies littered the cobbled ground, dried blood encrusting their clothing. Rusted swords, still clasped by their lifeless owners, had become black.

He could not move; his feet were rooted to the ground as he was forced to stare at the death in front of him. Around him a cold emotionless laugh filled the air.

Cadvan woke with a start, panting heavily. The sun was only beginning to touch the horizon with its beaming rays. The trees of the Irihel bowed around him as if trying to shelter him from his terrible dream. He was simply seeing the lies the Landrost had fed him. He thanked the Light he did not have the gift of foresight.

Maerad shifted in her sleep and murmured something incomprehensible. Cadvan watched her sleep for a few minutes. Her face was smoothed of the worry lines that occupied it frequently. Her smooth pale skin shone in the last remnants of the darkness, the glow of her Gift making it shine dimly. Her black hair lay in tangles around her shoulders and her arms contracted, hugging her lyre even more closely to her. Her frail thin body trembled slightly in the soft breeze and it seemed as if her Gift glowed more brightly. It seemed impossible for someone so gifted and beautiful to exist in the world Cadvan had just witnessed.

He shook his head and stood up, stretching his frozen limbs. As he left the boundary of the Irihel, he murmured a small incantation as an extra precaution for Maerad. Even though doubts still made him feel uneasy, a sense of protection for her had arisen.

He approached the creek he had led Maerad to earlier. He sat down and without hesitation doused his head completely into the icy water. The current washed away the dread he was feeling and Cadvan felt his muscles sigh. He shook his head as he lifted his head, his wet hair resting on his forehead. The sun had almost fully risen and warmed Cadvan as he climbed back to the Irihel.

Maerad was a bit more restless when he arrived. He dropped his shield and releasing his magery. Cadvan smiled grimly; he was not as exhausted as he had been walking into Gilman's Cot. But he was still a far way from having his full strength.

He laid out breakfast and sat up just as Maerad glanced at him, sitting up and awake with a somewhat confused expression.

"Good morning," he said, bowing to hide his smile. "The mistress of the house must forgive our fare, which, alas, is the same as last night. But wholesome, for all its monotony. Does my lady wish to wash first, or after she breaks her fast?"

Maerad laughed; a sound that surprised Cadvan, so joyous and carefree.

"Later, I think. It's a better breakfast than I'm used to!" she said.

They ate in companionable silence. Cadvan kept mulling over his decision to ask Maerad to scry her. Apprehension tightened his muscles and tried to ignore the feeling. He began packing up while Maerad wrapped her precious lyre and gave it to him to stow in his pack. He saw a slight tightening in her eyes as the wooden instrument left her hands.

"We must leave here today," Cadvan began. He explained his travel plans, not mentioning that they were heading towards a school. No need to make her nervous until necessary. He paused, uncertain again before deciding to ask her once and for all.

"Maerad, you are a sore puzzle to me, and such is the importance of my errand…I want to ask if I can scry you." There, he had said it. Maerad stared at him, thoroughly confused.

"Scry me?" she asked. "What does that mean?" _Hmmm,_ Cadvan thought. How to explain Scrying to someone who had never stepped into a school?

"It's hard to explain, if you don't know," he began, still thinking. "But I must tell you, that if you refuse, I will respect your decision and will attempt to place no weight on it." _I must simply remain on my guard the entire moment I am in your presence,_ he thought wryly. He continued his explanation, reassuring her it was painless, at least physically.

"It sounds like you want to magic me," Maerad said suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you trust me? Is that it?"

Cadvan sighed. She had reacted exactly as he hoped she wouldn't.

"What if I don't agree?" she asked, her face still completely mistrustful and slightly fearful.

"Then I won't do it," said Cadvan. "And we shall continue on our journey." He immediately shielded his thoughts. It seemed he would have to remain extremely cautious now. Perhaps Innail was no longer a good idea if this girl proved to be more than she seemed. However, he was sorely in need of a rest and a consult with Oron was proving to be a necessary visit. Maerad asked him of the procedure.

"I look into your eyes. I see into your mind. That's all."

"That's all?" Maerad asked. He watched her as she thought this through. Half a dozen emotions flitted across her features: suspicion, fear, resolve, mistrust, and resignation. "All right, then," she said finally, shrugging. "If it makes you feel better. What do you have to do?" Cadvan was taken aback at her sudden casual agreement.

"Are you sure?"

"Do you want to do it, or not?" she said a bit sharply. Cadvan dropped his pack, mustering his magery.

"Then stand square in front of me, like you did in the byre. And place your hands on my shoulders."

She did so, and Cadvan placed his hands on her shoulders. They stood face to face and Cadvan looked into her eyes. He felt Maerad's impulse to laugh.

"Don't laugh, Maerad," said Cadvan softly, emptying his own mind and telling her to do the same.

He spoke the words for the Scrying in the Speech very rapidly, even though he knew Maerad would not understand. _Speechless from the mountains._ As he gazed into her eyes, he felt her own curiosity exploring his mind. He saw images of his childhood flash before his eyes, running along the garden wall and stealing apples; his shock when he first discovered he had the Speech, being chastised by a fish for his swimming abilities. His memory of the Revenant rose to mind, Ceredin's screaming face and Dernhil's horror. This girl was going to scry him. He forced the memories from his mind, and his magery glowed even brighter. He felt Maerad instantly recoil and her hands felt suddenly heavy on his shoulders as her mind became overwhelmed with pictures.

He saw her days at that horrid workplace, felt her numbing exhaustion and boredom, her pain and humiliations of the riots and beatings. He saw her playing her lyre, a bit younger with another Bard. His Gift was incomparable to Maerad's and he saw how he attentively he watched Maerad singing and stroking the chords, her eyes closed and lost in the world of music. Then Milana, Milana of Pellinor, tall and cold, her blue-eyes, Maerad's eyes fierce. He saw singing and music and laughter in a great hall filled with men and women and children in fine clothes and lit with great branches of candles. This was Pellinor's last Meet, the one Cadvan had attended. Cai, her younger brother laughed from within Milana's arms, reaching for a red flower. He saw the glory of the great School as Maerad remembered and a great sadness ripped through his body as Maerad remembered the sacking. He saw Milana frantically clutching her daughter as they ran. A quick flicker of faces and Cadvan froze in shock as Enkir's face passed by for the briefest second. But before he could think of anything, Maerad continued to burden him with her agony. He saw Milana yellowed and wasted on a pallet, her lips cracked and ulcerated, her voice a whisper, brushing back Maerad's hair and telling her to be strong. And as Milana died, Maerad saw a man Cadvan remembered as her father fall with a blow from a mace, among many bodies, and a high tower burning in the night. It was almost like Cadvan's nightmare. The blood, the death, the tears, the unbearable agony. He wanted to scream out and stop these images but found he could not; like in the Landrost, Maerad was forcing him to watch what she had lost, what she had been helpless to save.

And then suddenly, Maerad screamed, a most terrifying sound that jolted Cadvan fiercely. Her mind lashed out at him and before he knew what was happening, his feet were no longer in contact with the ground. He was flying through the air for what seemed an immeasurable amount of time where Maerad's grief continued to consume him. Then pain, a flaring shot through his shoulder as it met the ground with all the force of his weight. He winced, but stood instantly. Maerad's cry had not only locked him out of her mind, but had awakened what Cadvan had thought he had felt before. He had to protect her, the desire- no the need was nearly dragging him back to her and he too willingly ran back.

There was immediate strong relief when he saw Maerad again, and he felt it twice as much when he was holding her. She turned her face into his shoulder, crying. Now that he was with her, it seemed his need to protect her had turned into a need to help her. He did not know what to do and ended up simply stroking her hair. He forced himself to push away the sadness that enveloped him, and slowly Maerad seemed to calm. After a while, her sobs subsided and she sat back, thrusting him away and rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes.

"Maerad, I am truly sorry," he said. And he really was. Why in all of Edil-Amarandh had he doubted her? "I am very, very sorry."

Maerad said nothing, simply hiding her face in her hands. Cadvan waited patiently, fighting the impulse to go hold her again and comfort her. He was still utterly bewildered as to where this unexpected need to protect and comfort her came from. Was it the response of his Gift to hers? Was the potency of her hidden power requiring him to stay close now, to prevent the Dark from reaching it?

"It _did_ hurt," Maerad said in a muffled voice, bringing Cadvan back from his questions that had not seemed to recede even after scrying her.

"I shouldn't have asked," Cadvan said. "For all your power, you are not much more than a child, and even the great find scrying a hard thing. I was in such doubt, whether you were a spirit of the Dark, sent to trick me." He hung his head, ashamed and humiliated at his confession. He had caused her unnecessary pain.

"_Me_ trick _you_?" Maerad looked up in surprise. Cadvan grinned at her crookedly.

"You have the consolation that I have paid for my doubt. The cry you sent out threw me over to those tress. I was lucky my neck wasn't broken!"

"I did that?" She stared at him, her mouth open in astonished. Yes, she was completely unschooled in her powers, so much so that she wasn't even aware of when she used them. Their escape from the Landrost had either purely been luck, or her Gift reacting to the Dark presence.

"Indeed you did. But it wasn't your fault." He grimaced, rubbing his head, feeling the pain he had ignored at the time. "You need to learn how to control your power." _Before you kill me,_ he thought.

"You'll have a bump there," she said. So she had noticed.

"Yes, I will."

"Is it all right, then?" Cadvan was thoroughly confused.

"What?"

"I mean, it's all right?"

"Oh, yes," Cadvan replied, distracted at her question. She was even unsure of whether there was Darkness within her. There seemed to be no end to this girl's ignorance of who she was. He felt as if he knew more about her than even she did. He felt suddenly embarrassed at this thought.

"It's a strange business, scrying. I haven't done it very often. But I can tell you, Maerad, that I have not scried one with so much anguish as you. I shan't do it again in a hurry, and you almost scried me instead!" _I will never do it again,_ he thought grimly. And he thought his torment with the Landrost had been excruciating and those images had not even occurred! He shook his head; now that the matter of the girl's true identity had been confirmed, there was no more need for delay. He stood up and brushed himself off.

"We must leave here," he said. "The sun is already high, and we have a long way to go."

Maerad squinted up at him. "Where are we going?"

"I think I must take you to Norloch. But that is a long way from here. First we must find food, and maybe some horses." A visit to Innail was necessary now. At least Silvia would be overjoyed.

He bowed to the trees, thanking them for their gracious hospitality and protection. They had offered him time to rebuild his strength enough to bring whoever this girl was to Oron's care.

He felt Maerad scramble up, confused by his gesture. "We must thank the trees for their hospitality," he said. "They have been good to us." He picked up his pack, walking out of the dingle and sighed inwardly. That was probably the last night of full worry-free sleep he would have until Innail.

Almost instantly as his foot left the boundary of the sanctuary, he felt the shadows of the wers. The Landrost still hunted them.


End file.
